


And the Pitter-Patter of Rain Keeps Him Company

by Jaybeesaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, My First Fanfic, don't really know where I'm going with this yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-08-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:23:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 15,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1734329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeesaur/pseuds/Jaybeesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's my first ever work. I have never written anything other than a high school essay up to this point. I have no idea how long this fic will be or what will happen in it yet. It is, however, going to be Destiel centered. AU!verse Castiel and Dean work together and don't know eachother yet. </p><p>It's my first time, please be gentle. <3<br/>Extremely short first chapter</p><p>Castiel was tired. He was sick, and he was tired, and he just wanted to go home and sleep it off. But no, of course he couldn't. Because, like always; there he was standing out in the street in the pouring rain under the dim light of the streetlamp, waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Bus Stop

 

* * *

 

Castiel was tired. He was sick, and he was tired, and he just wanted to go home and sleep it off. But no, of course he couldn't. Because, like always; there he was standing out in the street in the pouring rain under the dim light of the streetlamp, waiting.

  
“Waiting for what?”, you might ask; and the answer is a simple one. He is waiting to see him. One last time before he goes home for the night, he wants to see him. The golden-eyed man that plagued his restless nights on more occasions than he felt comfortable confiding anyone, let alone admitting to himself.

  
The only thing keeping him company being the pitter-patter of rain droplets hitting the overhead roof of the bus stop bench. He liked to imagine the noise as something more creative to keep his mind sharp and entertained, like uncooked rice falling out of an accidentally ripped bag. His thoughts seemed to turn and focus on the reason he was standing here, being awfully drenched by passing cars splashing milky puddles at his trousers. The reason he stood here so many evenings before.

  
Stolen glances and longing gazes aside from the generic passing-byes of greetings and pleasantries seemed to be the only interaction Castiel ever received or offered to the man. Yet, it was enough for his mind to tease him and punish him with. He knew the voice and he knew the smile and he knew the grip of the hand from a gentle greeting, but he did not know the man. Still, his imagination was wild, and hard to contain.

  
But all of his thoughts would seem to stop as if they had driven into a brick wall because there he was. The golden-eyed man. Castiel didn't even know this man's name. “Odd”, he thought to himself, as he was certain the man must have a name. Castiel thought maybe he had heard it before and, only now with those tortuous thoughts in his head, could he not place the name with the face.

  
He was running out to the car park from the building, hurriedly dashing towards his car in an attempt to avoid becoming completely drenched by the passing storm. Castiel could see that this man did indeed have a nice bounce to his step. He blushed and tried to shake the image out of his head as his bus pulled to a stop before him, blocking his view of the man.

  
With a woeful sigh, he climbed aboard and took his seat for the ride home.


	2. Some Nonsense About the Stock Market

The ride home was bumpy, and did not help the condition of his queasy stomach. The heater on the bus had been broken for months now, add that to the fact that he was soaked from the waist down and it was a chilly spring evening and you've got the perfect concoction for the sniffles, which Castiel now seems to have.

“I'm so hopeless,” Castiel mumbled to himself. “All this just to see him for a couple measly seconds.”

He jammed his keys into the lock on his apartment door, strode in and closed it behind him. He went in search of a box of tissues as soon as he noticed the box on the table where he keeps his keys was empty. He searched the pantry two, maybe three times, to no avail. He noted he needed to take a trip to the store as he decided to use a roll of toilet paper as a substitute. It would work for now, but it wasn't nearly soft enough and soon began to rub his nostrils raw.

Returning to the den, he switched on the television to some random channel and made his way into the kitchen. He liked having the television on, it made his sparingly-furnished home feel less lonely. Castiel wasn't really feeling hungry, or at least he didn't feel as if he could keep anything solid down for more than a few minutes. Deciding to ward off dehydration was probably the best decision he made that night as he poured himself a glass of crisp water from the fridge.

Returning to the den, he lowered himself on to the couch, placed the water on a coaster and pulled a blanket over himself figuring he could watch some TV before bed. He was a lot sleepier than he had originally thought.

 

* * *

 

He awoke that morning a flustered mess, panting and blushing a bright red he was sure hadn't been named yet. He couldn't tell if his clothes were soaked with sweat or if they were just still wet from last night. Why hadn't he changed when he got home?

Another dream of that man. Thinking of those piercing eyes staring at him from his dream sent a shiver down his spine. A cold shower would feel really nice right about now. His fever seemed to be getting a little worse and he had some other more uncomfortable reasons too, but he scolded himself for thinking about them.

 

* * *

 

The shower was nice but soon the water was too cold to bare and he quickly adapted it to a warmer setting, not trying to make himself any sicker than he already was. The television was still on as he made his way to his room, covering himself with his towel, and he could vaguely hear some nonsense about the stock market. He slipped on some loose-fitting blue jeans and a decent t-shirt, plopped on his favorite hoodie and converse shoes and made his way to the diner down the road.

 

The diner was nice. It had an aroma of fresh ground coffee beans and a hint of hazel, the walls were a nice blue color and there were small window booths and bar seating.

He sat in his usual spot, on the far right booth against the wall, and ordered a stack of pancakes and coffee. He liked his coffee black to offset the sweet sting of the pancakes.

He was enjoying a quiet, comfy, normal morning.That is, until bright-eyes walked in.

Castiel shifted uncomfortably in his booth, trying his best not to stare at the man he had just dreamed of not twenty minutes ago. His face flushed noticeably when their eyes met, and found it hard to break the contact. The man just smiled as he walked towards Castiel's booth and slid himself right in, across from Castiel. “oh, come on,” Castiel thought to himself, as the entire place was almost empty, with the exception of another regular on the other side of the diner.

“Hey, don't I know you?” The honeyed voice floated graciously into Castiel's ears. He looked up from his coffee, as though he was unaware of the man's presence.

“Oh yeah, I remember now! We work together, right? My name's Dean.” He said, extending his hand.

 Castiel put his coffee down carefully and shook Dean's hand. _“finally, a name”_ he thought to himself with an internal sigh of relief. “I'm Castiel. It's very nice to meet you, Dean.”

 “Yeah, man. You too.” Dean said, releasing the grip he had on Castiel's hand. Castiel noticed Dean looking around the diner, inspecting all its features.

 “So, uh, what's good here? To eat I mean.” Dean asked, clearing his throat. Castiel could sense his discomfort at how quiet he was being. He had a lot on his mind and he was too ill to think about it all right now. Castiel gave him a quick glance and suggested the omelet.

 

* * *

 

Awkward as it was in its beginning, Castiel really enjoyed getting to know Dean over breakfast. He was quirky, he liked sugar on his eggs and orange juice instead of coffee. Castiel learned that the golden-eyed man, _“Dean”_ , he reminded himself, Dean had a brother. As they finished paying the bill, it was Dean who spoke up first as they exited the door.

 “So, Cas,” he said, shoving his hands in his pockets. Castiel turned to look at him more directly.

 “Yes, Dean?” he replied softly.

 “Can I give you a lift to work?” Dean shifted his glance to the ground and rubbed his hand on the back of his neck. Apparently, Castiel hadn't answered quick enough, because Dean felt the need to explain himself. “You know, cuz I always see you riding the bus and stuff. It's not a big deal, you don't have to. I mean if you like riding the bus I understand, man. You know? I mean, I get it. The bus is cool too I guess.”

 “Dean,” Castiel said, when he had finally stopped for a breath, “I would love a ride.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. I don't know why but I feel like maybe I'm taking too much time on details and not progressing fast enough. Like why did I have to tell you every single thing he was doing? Walking here, walking there; monotonous. I'm boring.


	3. You call your mother 'Baby'?

Castiel admired the way Dean's teeth seemed to sparkle as he lifted his lips over them, in an excited smile at his acceptance. He smiled to himself as he thought about riding along with Dean to work.

He hated the bus. Every day he would stand under the awning, fiddling with the hem of his sweater in anticipation for its arrival. It makes a person very anxious, having to rely on a rickety excuse of transportation as his only means to his workplace. Always thinking of the different possible things that could happen that day. Would the bus suddenly break down that day? Would one of the rowdy passengers pick his pocket as he walked by without his knowledge? Would a businesswoman spill her steaming latte on him when they hit an unexpected bump in the road?

Castiel's thoughts were halted as they arrived at the glistening midnight-colored car. He wondered what type of car this was. He wasn't really into cars and the thought had never occurred to him before and he blurted out a meek “It's nice.”

Dean appeared almost insulted at the remark. The features in his face displayed how much the car meant to him as he spoke so quickly in return, “She was my father's. He gave her to me after my mother died. I call her Baby.” He was stroking the side of the car endearingly, wiping away a blemish only he could have noticed.

Castiel's face twisted in confusion. “You call your mother 'Baby'?” he asked in all seriousness as he opened the passenger side door.

“Of course not! The car, you moron. I call the car 'Baby'.” He grinned and chuckled softly as he turned the keys in the ignition.

They rode in a comfortable silence for awhile. Castiel was enjoying the scenery as they passed a pasture full of cows on the small countryside road they had turned onto about a mile back. They were grazing on the still dew-ridden, golden, sun-lit fields. He had never been down this road before, frankly; he didn't even know it had existed before now. He mentioned that to Dean, breaking the silence as he turned to look at the other side of the road.

“Really? I come out here all the time. City streets are too neglected for Baby; too many potholes. It's not good for her suspension.” Dean commented. He still had a light smile on his face. Castiel's curiosity stirred once he heard the pet name again. “What kind of car is she anyway, Dean?”

“A 1967 Chevrolet Impala. The greatest car to ever come off the assembly.” He was so proud, it was seeping out of his skin. He was glowing as he went off into a one-sided conversation designed to educate Castiel about the history of the Impala, and Cas was loving every syllable. Dean was so passionate about this gift from his father. Simple agreements, short inquiries, and a half hour later; they had arrived at the office where they both worked.

They entered the building and the elevator together. They worked on separate floors and Dean's office was on a lower floor. The two men gave each other a small goodbyes and shook hands in parting. Cas waved to Dean as he got off on his floor and, when the doors closed, let out a small sigh. He was hoping that the ride with Dean would've been longer, or at least feel as though it was. He heard the satisfying ping of the elevator's bell and the doors opened. Castiel went straight to work, hoping the day would pass quickly. He didn't really like his job. It was as boring as most of his co-workers. The dull bunch of dimwits. A clumsy redheaded woman carrying too many things collided into him. She apologized and he offered to help, but she assured him that she would keep an ear out for other people. “You walk very quietly, for a man your size, sir.” she stated cheerfully. He barely remembered her name, and only because she had jokingly stated it was 'Charles' at one point, even though it wasn't. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended by that. “Be more careful, Charlie, I don't want you getting hurt.” He told her to have a good day and she wished him good luck in the meeting. “ _The Meeting_ ” he thought to himself, having completely forgotten about it. “ _At least I won't be late now_ ,” he thought and continued on his way to a corporate meeting scheduled for that morning.

Castiel was District Vice President for Thunderorderly, a sound-proofing company for residential homes. He wasn't sure exactly what Dean did for the company and made a mental note to ask him about it the next time he saw him. “ _If I see him again_ ,” he despaired to himself.

The meeting lasted all day, only breaking for lunch. New policies were being discussed and argued upon, other than that he wasn't really sure what happened. He was a little preoccupied thinking about earlier conversations he had with Dean. He was embarrassed to admit it, even if it was only to himself but he had definitely developed a crush. There was no doubt in his mind about it. He only worried himself more after this realization. Crushes rarely ever ended in anything other than disappointment. He sighed, noticing he has been doing a lot of sighing lately, and sighed again at that. Rubbing the back of his stressed neck, he spotted the objects of his affections.

Dean was still working at his desk when Castiel had entered his floor of the building. He didn't want to bother him while he was working, he wasn't here to see him personally. He was here to see his boss. Dean's boss, that is. Not Castiel's own boss, of course, who doesn't even work in this building. Dean's boss was a very well dressed woman, with glossed lips and a tight hair-bun.

He entered the office and handed over the file he was carrying, informed the woman of the policy changes and headed back out into the hallway. His work was done for the day, and the other employees would be leaving soon too. He slinked out the back way towards the elevator. He really disliked passing all of his workers. They always seemed to be distracted as he walked by. They would really stare him down. He felt like a burden to them, as if they were watching in fear he would stop by their desk and fire them or something. It was awkward and made him uncomfortable. He would often feel the need to speed towards the exit if he went this way, and he imagined this probably only fueled the anxiety of the workers.

He wasn't surprised when he didn't bump into Dean on his way out of the area. He hit the button to summon the lift. He was, however, surprised to see him in the elevator as he boarded. How could he be in the elevator when it wasn't already on this floor? He had just seen him moments ago, on the other side of the office space, working diligently. The surprise on his face had coaxed a staggered laugh from Dean's throat. He tried to suppress it by covering his mouth, as Castiel's was practically gaping in confusion.

“Don't laugh! I wasn't expecting to see you is all.” Castiel was flustered, straightening out his outfit. He felt like a fool. If he had remembered the meeting he would've dressed more appropriately, not that his peers seemed to mind. “Why do you sound so surprised to see me in the elevator? Everybody's allowed to use it Cas.” Dean chipped in.

“ _Cas_.” What a novelty. “ _He called me Cas. Nobody's called me that before._ ” He blushed at the thought of his first nickname that wasn't from a sibling.

Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, he turned around quickly, not wanting to let Dean see his face tinting the way it was, and pressed the button to take them to the ground floor.

 


	4. Mooing and Cowbells

They were barely out of the building and Castiel was already heading for the bus stop. Dean looked perplexed as he grabbed hold of Castiel’s shoulder and turned him to face him. The contact had startled him. “Where ya’ going, Cas?” he asked with a dim smile.

“Well, the day is done, Dean. Home. I was going to ride the bus home.” Castiel stated plainly. Dean had a look cross his face too fast for Castiel to place the emotion behind it. He dropped his hold on Castiel and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I thought maybe, if ya’ wanted, you know, maybe I could take you home?” Dean was rolling on his heels as the words slithered out of his mouth. He was shifting his glance around, not looking directly at Castiel.

“I wouldn’t want to burden you, Dean. You’re not obligated to have to chauffeur me around. I appreciate the ride we had together this morning but I refuse to see you go out of your way for me.” He began to turn once again to be on his way. Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed Castiel’s jacket sleeve. He was pulling him in the direction of the car park and it was clear he had decided not to take ‘no’ as an answer. Castiel laughed at the thought as it passed, that Dean would rather kidnap him than let him ride the bus.

They drove down the same road on the way back to Castiel’s house. There were no cows in the field now, they had moved on to a different pasture for the evening, but you could still hear their mooing and cowbells over the tree line.

The air was warm as the sun was setting and even with the windows down, it was still humid inside the Impala. Castiel had elected to remove his hoodie. As he was pulling the jacket over his head, his shirt had almost come with it. Dean’s eyes were drawn to Castiel’s abdomen. Castiel’s physique was not one of a sickly man, as most people assumed due to his frequent use of baggy clothes and loose posture. Dean sucked in a ragged breath through his teeth and looked away before Castiel had the chance to notice. Castiel adjusted his clothing back into place and got into a more comfortable position in the seat. His hair was now disheveled and he paid it no mind as the warm breeze played through the lengthy dark locks on his head.

The last rays of sunlight were disappearing as they turned the last corner as Castiel directed. When they reached the apartment building the car slowed to a halt. As Castiel was unbuckling his seat belt it occurred to him that it would be polite to invite Dean up to his apartment for a beer, so he did.

Dean turned off the car and followed Castiel up to the apartment. It didn’t surprise him when Castiel turned open the lock and swung the door around to show the sparse furnishings. They guy had ridden the bus to and from work every day, a common indicator for poverty. Castiel told Dean to make himself at home and receded into the kitchen. When he returned he emerged with two ice cold beers, already dripping with condensation due to the humidity of the night. He handed one to the other man, plopped himself on the couch and cracked his drink open.

The room was loud, as conversations carried through the air, long into the night. They had all but drank all the beer in the vicinity. Soon drunken stories and silly jokes turned into half-lidded eyes and stretching and yawns.

It was obvious to the both of them that, as soon as the invitation was accepted, Dean would be staying the whole night. There’s no way Castiel would have let him drive home intoxicated and Dean wouldn’t dare leave Baby in favor of a cab ride.

Castiel noticed the tale-tell signs that they were both about to pass out anyway, and decided it was time for them to turn in for the night. He offered to let Dean take his room for the night, as the couch was old, rickety and smelled as if the previous owners had lived in a tobacco company’s testing room. Dean didn’t object to the idea but he still wasn’t going to let Castiel sleep there either and suggested they share the bed, with a stupid grin on his face and seducing eyes.


	5. Hands Around His Throat

Castiel had a strange dream. He was floating on a gently rocking boat in the middle of a bay in some place he had never seen before, talking to someone below the deck. He didn’t recognize the voice, it was distorted and elongated.  He couldn’t peer through the entryway either. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed as if the only thing that lied beyond the door was blackness. He was staring into the abyss of the entry, inching closer and closer, reaching out his hand. He had to know who, or what, was behind the darkness.

He could touch the darkness, mold it in his hand. It felt like water, except his hand was still dry once he removed and inspected it. He plunged his hand in once more, still curious of the voice’s master. As he reached deeper into the abyss he felt something. It seemed to pass gently enough over his arm, caressing it as it did. He didn’t feel threatened by the thing’s presence and left his arm in place, just in case he might frighten it.

The thing coasted by his arm again, lingering longer this time. The sky seemed to dim and Castiel could feel uneasiness in the pit of his stomach. He attempted to pull his arm out of the void, only to be grabbed by the very thing he was worried he might frighten. It was tightening around him, pulling him in. Grunting and struggling against it, Castiel braced himself on the doorframe. He was fighting for the release of his arm, pulling away as hard as he could. A storm had come in and the water was beginning to thrash against the boat. Lightning struck and the grip on his arm was gone too fast. He was startled and the sudden removal of the offending presence along with the loud roar of thunder sent him over the edge of the boat.

He was in the water now. The waves were too strong and he had used most of his strength trying to regain control of his arm. A wave overtook him and he was sucked down by the undertow. Without the energy to continue fighting water soon began to fill his lungs.

* * *

 

He awoke suddenly, nearly jumping off the mattress in fear. Gasping for air with his hands around his throat, wheezing and coughing as his lungs had not realized they weren’t sucking in water because he was not, in fact, drowning. It took him a while to calm into a regular breathing pattern and his skin was soaked in a cold sweat.

A few minutes later he tried shaking the memory of his nightmare from his thoughts. It was too strange to think of right now. He didn’t have nightmares often and chalked it up to being ‘overdue’ for one.

He got out of bed and headed for the kitchen. He was parched and his head was throbbing. His world was spinning around him and buzzing. Everything was too bright.

_Was I drinking last night? This feels like a hangover._ He couldn’t remember and he needed an aspirin before he did anymore thinking. He found some and chugged his water to wash it down. He pulled his shirt off and tossed it on the couch as he sauntered back towards his bathroom, which was at the end of the hall. He turned on the shower faucet, finished undressing and got in under the stream. He bathed under the relaxing running water. He finished, wrapped a towel around his waist and began drying his hair with another while walking to his room.

Castiel stopped in his tracks as he rounded the corner. There was a half-naked man tucked into his bed. He blushed deep crimson as all the memories from last night came flooding into his mind. _“No,”_ he thought, gasping quietly. _“We couldn’t have. There’s no way, I…”_ But he couldn’t remember.

His last thing he could remember was Dean offering to share the bed with him and pulling him into the room _“Was that a wink?”_ Castiel had been so deep in thought, ashamed at what he was assuming they had done; he barely noticed Dean rustling awake under the covers.

Dean was grunting and holding the small of his back as he stretched, sitting up. “Man, my back is killing me,” He groaned.

“Oh God, what have I done?” Castiel said under his breath, terror setting in on his face.


	6. Lying on the Pavement

Castiel’s face was burning with embarrassment as his imagination ran rampant. Tangled limbs, breathless whispers, a heated night of passionate drunken decisions. He could see it all in his mind and wasn’t sure if it was imagination or memory plaguing his thoughts. _What happened last night? Why did I drink so much?_ Castiel was a light drinker, it wasn’t often he would get blackout drunk like he seemed to have done last night.

All of these thoughts had to be cast aside. He knew that no matter what happened last night, Dean was in distress and that was all that mattered. He walked over to the bedside and sat facing away from the other man, too embarrassed to look at him as he spoke. “Are you alright, Dean?” Castiel asked quietly.

“Cas, how do you sleep on this thing? It’s like lying on the pavement all night!” He was still trying to stretch his spine out as he complained. The mattress was hard, old, and the springs were poking through a bit but it was still the comfiest thing in the apartment. “Next time we have a sleepover, let’s do it at my house. I don’t know how much more of this I can stand.” Dean sat up next to Castiel on the edge of the bed. He laughed at the sight of Castiel, whom he noticed hadn’t looked him in the eye yet this morning. His pink-tinted skin and avoidance could only imply one thing to Dean. It became clear; Castiel didn’t remember last night.

A scheme began to map itself out over his face, obvious, like it was written in plain text over his forehead. “So, Cas,” he started playfully, “About last night…” He trailed off on purpose, catching Castiel’s attention. He raised his hand and stroked Castiel’s hair. He heard him sigh and watched his shoulders slump as he put his face in his hands. Dean immediately regretted his plan. He felt bad for attempting to deceive Castiel.

“Nothing happened, Cas.” He told him with a light laugh as he patted his back. “I was just messin’ with ya’.”

Dean heaved himself off the mattress and began to search for his clothes. He hated wearing day clothes to bed and he didn’t have any pajamas on him so the next best thing was his underwear. The boys dressed in silence. Castiel felt foolish for thinking it but was relieved at the fact that they had not been intimate. If they were ever going to be intimate, Castiel wanted to remember it. He would want to savor the memory, to be able to revisit it as much as he liked.

Castiel’s thoughts shifted to Dean’s earlier words. _“Next time we have a sleepover, let’s do it at my house.”_ The words replayed in his head. “ _Next time.”_ He liked the idea of a next time. Maybe next time he could even remember the whole night.


	7. Hippie-Progressive-Religious Nuts

Castiel could hear his stomach growling as he wrapped his scarf around his neck. Seeing as how they were both dressed now, he invited Dean out to breakfast.

They arrived and ordered and began to eat when Dean finally felt comfortable again, after his guilt had washed away from tricking Castiel.

“Hey, Cas,” he began with a smile, “What would you think about coming over to my house tonight?”

Castiel almost spit out his coffee. He swallowed hard and took another sip as he mulled over the sudden question. Should he say yes? They had barely known each other for a week, and Dean has already slept in his bed. They should get to know each other a bit more first, he decided and opened his mouth to answer. He was cut off though and Dean added in “I’m having a cook-out at my house, my whole family is getting together, since my dad is back in town.”

This changed things. Castiel thought that meeting Dean’s family would be a great way to learn more about him. “I’d love to come meet your family, Dean. Your brother will be there, too?” Castiel remembered how highly Dean had spoken of his brother and was eager to see what all the hype was about.

“Yeah, Sam’ll be there.” He grinned in response.  “He’ll probably bring his boyfriend around, too.” A scowl crossed his mouth as he thought about it. _Dean doesn’t like Sam’s boyfriend then_ Castiel noted.

He shoved another forkful of pancakes in his mouth. Castiel wasn’t aware Sam had a boyfriend and the news interested him. “What’s Sam’s boyfriend called?” He took another bite.

“Asshole.” Dean sent himself into a giggle fit as soon as the words left his lips. Castiel, however, was not amused. Dean noticed and tried to straighten himself out. “We call him ‘Luke’. His parents were some kinda hippie-progressive-religious nuts and decided to name him Lucifer, after the devil. Suits him just fine, too. He’s a fucking dick.” Castiel didn’t know what to say to that, so he just let the subject slide.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t have work today, so they hung out all day. They watched Castiel’s favorite movie and sang Dean’s favorite songs. They talked about work and their hobbies. They talked for hours.

Castiel learned that Dean liked to work on his car on the weekends and Dean learned that Castiel had two middle names. “Castiel Clarence James Novak. Now that’s a mouthful of a name if I’ve ever heard one.” Dean was amused to find out, too, that Castiel had gone through a phase in high school where he didn’t like his first name and wanted to be called ‘Jimmy’, which is short for ‘James’. He even had a girlfriend at one point early in college that called him ‘Clarence’.

 

* * *

 

It was getting on in the day and Dean looked up at the sound of his cell phone chiming a small alarm. It was time for Sam to pick their father up from the airport, which meant it was time for Dean to head home.

“Cas, we gotta go. They should be back in about an hour and I gotta get stuff ready.” Castiel understood and lifted himself off the couch, starting for the door. He stopped when he heard Dean cackling behind him and turned on his heels to face him.

“What’s so funny?” He did a turn, trying to look at his backside. “Is something stuck on me?”

Dean grabbed Castiel and pointed him towards his room. “Pack your stuff, you’re staying with me tonight.”


	8. Small Humans

Castiel pulled together a nice overnight bag. All of the essentials were included; comb, undies, toothbrush, fresh clothes, and a comfy pair of jammies. He grabbed his keys on his way out of the apartment, turning off all the lights on his way. He made sure to lock the door even though he knew his belongings were safe; he looked too poor for anyone sane to want to steal from him. They climbed into the Impala and were on their way to Dean’s house in a matter of seconds.

They took the same road, the one riddled with cattle. Castiel started to wonder if this was the only road Dean knew about, or maybe it was the only one worthy enough for him to drive his precious tires over.

They only drove for about ten minutes before turning down a side road. There were scattered houses and barns and crop fields, which soon faded into a more suburban area. Cute families with their pristine houses and lovely picket fences littered the area.

Castiel began to feel weight being added to his heart as doubt began to cloud his mind. Did Dean actually have an interest in him as a potential mate, or was Castiel about to meet his wife and children? They pulled into a driveway that was in between two houses. One of the houses had a birdbath as its only decoration and the other was abundant with screaming children and a watchful motherly eye, Castiel felt his heart sink as the exited the car.

The children came running towards them, arms wide open. They were jumping all over Dean, hugging him and saying how much they had missed him, asking all sorts of questions at once. Where was he last night, who was the strange man he was with, when was he going to come play with them?

Castiel waited patiently as Dean answered all of their prying questions. “I was at this guy’s house.” He was pointing at Castiel as he said it. “He’s my new friend. His name is Castiel. Quit lookin’ at him all weird and say ‘hi’ you little freaks.” They all resounded with a friendly, albeit much too loud, “Hello, Castiel!” To which he responded with a small wave and a quiet “Hello, small humans.” They all giggled and called him weird.

Their mother was calling them back over to her and Dean waved to her. Castiel noticed all the children had been calling him ‘Dean’, but that didn’t really mean anything. Maybe he was their stepdad? Castiel was grabbing his pack at the moment and Dean started walking over to the other house, the one without all the children ruining the lawn with their crazy antics. A wave of relief washed over Castiel as if it was about to take him under. He hurried to catch up to Dean, who was already swinging the door to his home open and kicking off his boots.

They came inside and Dean gave him a tour of the house. It was nice. Three bedrooms, two baths, open kitchen scheme. Dean told Castiel he could drop his bag into one of the guest rooms and get comfortable while he began preparing the house for his family.

Castiel offered to help him clean up a bit but Dean insisted he had everything under control. And he did. The whole house was clean in a matter of minutes. Castiel went outside to the backyard. Dean was firing up his grill and Castiel decided to help set up the patio furniture. A low rumble was heard from the front of the house.

Dean lifted his gaze from the grill’s balze and looked over to Castiel. “Guess they’re here.”


	9. You Didn't Tell Me Your Father Was John Winchester

The boys retreated into the house to greet the family. As soon as they had entered the house the front door had swung open and a monument of a man with long brown hair strode in, his body filled to the brim with luggage. “Hey, Sammy.” Dean ran across the room and took some of the luggage away from the man Castiel had just identified as Dean’s younger brother. Two smaller men entered the house. One had short blond hair and seemed about Castiel’s age, the other was older, his black hair graying. Castiel instantly recognized the older man.

“Professor?” He asked timidly, walking closer and squinting as if his eyes had been playing tricks on him. The man’s eyes locked on him and a pleasant smile spread across his face. “Castiel! It’s been so long since I last saw you, how have you been?” John embraced him like he was family and ruffled his hair under his strong hands. Dean had heard them speaking and turned around so fast he nearly dropped everything he had been carrying.

“Wait, you two know each other?” Dean’s face was as puzzled as his voice, and he struggled under the weight of the bags. Castiel grinned back at him, still under the hold of Dean’s father. “Dean, you didn't tell me your father was John Winchester! He was my favorite professor in college!”

John looked over to his elder son to offer an explanation. “Castiel was the smartest student in the whole class. One of the only ones with any plans for the future, too. Speaking of which,” He turned back to Castiel, “Did you ever open that company you were always talking about? You know, the soundproofing one?” Dean’s eyes looked like they were going to fall out of his head and his jaw to the floor. His father couldn't possibly mean Thunderorderly. There’s no way.

“Yeah, as a matter of fact I did, Professor.” He had a smile on his face as he saw the pride cross John’s face. “I opened Thunderorderly about six months after I graduated.” Dean’s reaction was priceless to Castiel. _Surely he had known that,_ Castiel thought to himself _, right?_

“Wait, _you_? You own Thunderorderly?” The confusion had an obvious reason behind it. Castiel was extremely poor, how could he be the owner of such a successful company and live in an apartment that shabby?

“Well, not exactly. Not anymore, anyway. I sold it to a wealthy woman after about a year. I found out one of my best friends had gotten cancer before I started college and after I graduated and started the company I learned that she couldn't afford to be treated. So, I sold my house and my car, and a few months later, my company.” Castiel’s expression turned sour as he remembered his friend.

Sam came out and snatched the bags away from Dean, who had clearly forgotten he was holding them. John held Castiel tighter in an attempt to console him. “Anna was a good woman, Castiel. She died too young.” He rubbed him on the back and patted his hair as he released him.

Dean hadn't known any of this, and was clearly upset that his father knew more about Castiel than he did. Rather than show his annoyance towards them, he cut his eyes over to Luke, who was still standing in the doorway. “Close the door, you heathen.” He said it and glared at him as he did.

Luke noticeably rolled his eyes, making a show of it as he slammed the door shut. It became as obvious as the sun that the relationship between these two men was one of hate, or at least one of extreme dislike.

Dean ushered the group outside, he was still in the middle of cooking and, this being a cookout, meant everyone had to socialize outside for some reason.


	10. The Thunder That Follows

It was starting to get windy and the clouds were rolling in as the group of men finished eating dinner. They were just bringing in the last of the dishes and Dean was covering his grill as the sky lit up for the first time that night. Lightning was beautiful, that he could admit. However, the thunder that follows terrifies him and has ever since he was a small child.

Castiel hung back and anxiously helped Dean finish folding the lawn furniture when he felt the first rain drop hit the bridge of his nose. He breathed out harshly and pulled Dean inside the house, narrowly escaping the sudden downpour that followed the first drop. There was still no thunder, and for that Castiel was thankful.

“Thanks, Cas. I would’ve been soaked if you hadn’t dragged me in.” Dean smiled and rubbed Castiel’s hair. _There certainly has been a lot of hair rubbing today_ , he noted. He smiled anyway.

John left for the night; he had an apartment close by. He wished the boys the best and thanked Dean for dinner and thanked Sam and Luke for the ride from the airport. Sam and Luke, on the other hand, lived quite far away and Dean had offered to let them stay as long as they liked since they had brought his father home. Sam gave Castiel a firm hug and told him goodnight; he had always been a bit grabby. Luke grabbed Sam’s arm and began to pull him into their temporary room as he waved to Castiel and said goodnight. When they got to the door, he pushed Sam inside, flipped Dean the bird and shut the door behind him.

Dean groaned in aggravation, as he ran his hands over his face. “Come on, Cas. Let’s get you to bed.” Dean gently guided Castiel to his room and, when they reached the door, wished him goodnight. He leaned in close, and Castiel flinched and shut his eyes tight. Dean chuckled quietly as he reached up to kiss Castiel’s forehead, running his thumb over the spot afterwards. He turned to leave and Castiel shut the door.

Castiel went to change into his pajamas. He could hear the rain pattering on the roof and tanging on the windows. The room would light up when the lightning hit. He could see the lawn through the windows for the duration of the bolt, as if it were still daylight for a moment. He crawled into the bed and got huddled under the blanket. He began to drift off to sleep. He was warm under the covers and he felt completely at home. This was the comfiest bed he had been in since his days in his dorm room.

He was on the brink of unconsciousness, already a dream was forming in the back of his mind, when the thunder boomed. He bolted awake, just as fast as lighting could reach the ground. The sound of the thunder was so strong it shook the house. At this point, the house wasn’t the only thing shaking. Castiel could barely breathe; his lungs working raggedly over his fear. The thunder cracked again and Castiel’s eyes shot open wide in terror, pointing his gaze out the window. Another boom and he was tripping out of the blankets, trying to escape the enemy of his ears.

He held his ears closed and shut his eyes tight, huddled into a ball on the other side of the room. It became a barrage of noise and Castiel couldn’t control his fear any longer. He bolted out of the room and down the hall, headed straight for Dean’s room.


	11. Deliberate and Naughty

Castiel had made it to the Dean’s bedroom door safely. In his panicked state he had failed to realize the quiet that had settled over the atmosphere around him. He was about to knock on the door, having calmed quite a bit due to the lack of noise in the hall, when another loud roar boomed throughout the house. His muscles seized and his breath hitched in his throat. He grabbed the knob and yanked the door around him, pulling himself into the room and bracing himself against the door, as if the noise was someone chasing him through the hallway. Dean was startled by the noise the door had made when Castiel had closed it behind him. He looked over, thinking his home was being invaded; only peeking through the lid to assess the situation before he acted. Thankfully, he realized the intruder was only Castiel.

“Cas, what’re you doing?” Dean asked, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Castiel didn’t answer him; he was still trying to catch his breath from sprinting down the hall. Dean sat up and took a closer look at him. He could see the panic on his face as the lightning lit the room; hear the breathless tugs for air coming from his lungs.

“Cas, what’s going on? Are you okay?” Dean asked as he jumped out of his bed, moving towards Castiel. Concern written across his face, he grabbed at Castiel, who clutched onto him in terror as the thunder cracked once again; a small whimper escaping his lips. The thunder was unrelenting, and every time the sky bellowed Dean could feel Castiel flinch and huddle closer to him, clearly seeking comfort.

Dean lead Castiel to the bed, never once letting go of him. Not that Castiel’s grip on him would have allowed for him to. He lowered them into a seated position and pulled Castiel onto his lap. He was trying all he could think of to calm him; pulling the blankets over them, stroking his hair, rubbing his back, whispering things like “It’s okay, it’s just noise, it can’t hurt you” in his ear every so often. These things did seem to calm the dark-haired man, at least until the sky would yell out in protest again.

Dean didn’t mind, though. Castiel needed him, and there he was; comforting a full-grown man with a fear of thunder.

The storm was beginning to pass; the clouds were moving on, the rain was halting, the thunder finally dissipating. Castiel spoke for the first time since he had entered the room; startling Dean, who had not been listening for words. “Come again?” Dean asked, not having been able to catch what was said.

“I said thank you.” Castiel yawned out. “I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t mean to wake you. I was just frightened; I didn’t know what else to do.” Castiel was trying to leave Dean’s grip, trying to go back to his room to let Dean sleep.

But Dean wouldn’t let go. He only held him tighter. “It’s fine, Cas. Everybody’s afraid of something.” He was nuzzling his nose into the nape of Castiel’s neck, his arms wrapped firmly around his waist.

“You should stay here tonight,” Dean said it before he really thought about it. Castiel looked up at him quizzically. Was Dean asking him to sleep in his bed? _Sleep in the same bed, again? Once sounds like a friendly accident, twice sounds deliberate and naughty._ Blush blossomed on his face as he stared into Dean’s speckled green eyes. _Had those freckles always been on his nose_?

Dean, not being very awake right now, and having just realized the implications behind his question, tried to come up with a decent explanation. “Um, I mean, you know, just in case the, uh, the weather starts up again.” He cleared his throat at the end and looked away, awkwardly loosening the death grip he had on Castiel.

Castiel just laughed and scooted to the other side of the bed. Dean was still in arm’s reach. Castiel got comfy under the blanket, silently accepting Dean’s invitation. Dean smiled and smacked him with a pillow, which Castiel then commandeered as an offering and laid his head down upon it.


	12. Watch for Glass

Castiel began drifting off, content and at ease.

His mind was wandering and dreams were being formed. Castiel could feel himself slipping from consciousness.

He was in a state between being asleep and awake. He felt odd. Castiel couldn’t tell if he was awake or not. He felt light, at the same time heavy. His vision seemed blurred, yet eerily clear. A crash sounded from the hall, like glass breaking on the floor. He sat up, still unsure of his state of mind. If this was a dream, it was extremely vivid.

He looked towards the hall. The light was shining beneath the closed bedroom door. Had the light been on earlier? It was now. Maybe Sam or Luke had gone for a midnight snack or something. Maybe they had dropped whatever they were carrying and needed help cleaning it up. Castiel decided he would go to their aid. He got out of bed, having to climb over Dean’s lightly snoring form, because the bed had one side pressed against the wall.

He kept himself as high over the man as he could, trying not to wake him as he passed. This would be a very unfortunate position to be discovered in.

A scratching noise was sounding off in the hallway, gripping Castiel’s attention. He could see a shadow pass under the doorframe. It seemed to stop right in front of the door for a moment and Castiel froze, eyes locked on to the black mass leering in the light. He couldn’t make out the shape of it, only being able to see such a small sliver of it.

The house was silent, as time seemed to tick by ever so slowly. Eyes never breaking gaze on the shadowy form, not even for a moment. _I should watch for glass in the hall_ , Castiel thought to himself as he slowly approached the door.

He reached for the handle. As he grasped it and as he began to twist it he noticed the figure was gone. It was no longer blocking the light from pooling around his feet from under the door. He pulled the door from its closed position, an audiable sound, a small click as it left its resting stance. Now a shallow creaking; elongated and low. He stepped out into the hall, glancing around trying to examine his surroundings. He didn’t see anybody or any glass either. He took another tentative step, listening closely for any signs of movement in the passageway.

_Strange_ , Castiel thought to himself as he continued down towards the end of the hall, _I could’ve sworn there was someone out here._ He reached for the lighswitch and flicked it off, turning around to return to Dean’s room. He started walking, keeping his hand on the wall to guide himself back safely.

He smelled something in the air, like burnt marshmallows or a campfire. It wasn’t that late, perhaps the neighbor’s kids were playing around outside. He wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, He must’ve passed Dean’s room. It was very peculiar. He didn’t feel a door or anything else on the wall and he had been searching for this entrance for much longer than it took for him to get to the lightswitch at the opposite end of the hall.

Both his temporarily asssigned room and Dean’s room were both on this side of the hall, why hadn’t he felt either of the doors? _I must be dreaming_ , he decided, shaking his head, and kept searching the endless expanse of wall.

He felt something touch his chest. It felt like a hand, only it didn’t feel solid, like it could push through his body on a whim. It was an intriguing thought, one that he didn’t get to ponder for very long. A force came from the thing touching him and he was now hurdling towards the floor.

Castiel threw out his hands in an attempt to catch himself, feeling a sharp pain as they made contact with the floor. There’s that glass he’d been looking for.


	13. Heap of Clear Daggers

All Castiel could feel was the sting of having his palms sliced open, glass already making itself at home in his skin. He didn’t hear the screams that filled the air as the pieces settled in. Had they even come from him? He couldn’t tell. Blood, dripping into the carpeted walkway, staining the pristine white into a romantic crimson. He could feel strong hands gripping his shoulders, pulling at him, making him stand. He barely noticed. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from his hands. So much blood, all pooling around the crystalline shards, sopping wet with red.

His vision blurred as he watched as his life force pulsated out of his body. He felt weak, his legs could no longer support him and he almost collapsed. He would have too, if not for those strong hands holding onto him. A saving grace, lest he collapse only to land once again upon the heap of clear daggers.

Castiel looked up through watery eyes, consciousness failing him. He could only make out the shape of a man. Long, dark hair; arms trailing from Castiel’s shoulders to the man’s own. He couldn’t make out the face as his body failed him. He could hear hollow shouts, seemingly directed at him.

That was it. His eyes drifted back down to his hands. Too much blood. Too much red. Too much pain.

His eyes rolled back into his head, his body went slack. The only thing he was aware of now was the color black as a feeling of peace washed over him.


	14. Towels and Zip Ties

He wasn’t going to get out of bed at first.

He hears it. He hears the thunder. He listens to the panicked footsteps. He flinches at the door slamming into place. He hears it all. He tries to go to sleep, he does. He tries to mind his business, he knows he should. But he can’t help hearing it all.

He has his lover locked in his arms, snoozing peacefully against his chest. He wants to sleep, he does. He would gladly let his eyes flutter shut. He would allow his breathing to even out and drift out of consciousness. He would allow it if he could, but he can’t. Ever since he first met him it’s been hard. Falling asleep is nearly impossible now. He doesn’t know what caused his developed insomnia, but he would take it back if he had a choice.

Every night for the past two years he has damned his sleepless curse. Every night, for two years, he had begged for sleep. Tonight was no different. Until it was.

Sam’s sleep deprivation would be Castiel’s salvation. Sam heard everything because of it. He heard the glass shattering. He heard someone in the hall. He heard it, not acting only because they were all men and whoever had dropped the glass would certainly be capable of handling it themselves. He didn’t think anything of it when he heard all the footsteps in the hall. He thought even less of the shuffling he heard after the light went out in the corridor.

He wasn’t going to get out of bed at first. Nope, he was dead set on trying to get some sleep tonight. It wasn’t until he heard the scream that he decided tonight wasn’t going to be the night. He knew there was no hope for tonight.

He tugged himself free of Luke’s leech-like grasp and threw his lengthy legs over the edge of the bed and heaved himself off it. He ran his hands through his dark hair as he reached the door. It opened to reveal a sight he was only half expecting. Castiel was on the floor, hunched over. He wasn’t moving, and he wouldn’t stop looking at his hands. Sam tried to get his attention from a distance, not knowing where the glass may lie. It wasn’t working, he couldn’t break Castiel’s trance.

Sam grabbed his shoulders and turned him around, pulling him to his feet. He kept trying to get Castiel to look at him, to break his gaze. He looked up at him only once, Sam could tell when Castiel’s eyes couldn’t grasp his gaze that this was shock. Castiel was going into shock and when Sam’s own eyes drifted to Castiel’s hands, he realized why. He was losing so much blood and so fast that Sam knew if he didn’t get him help soon he wasn’t going to last much longer.

“Cas. Cas, look at me.” He grabbed his face and shook him, trying to get him to listen. Trying everything he could to get him to listen. “Cas, it’s gonna be alright. I’m going to help you, okay?” It wouldn’t register. He wouldn’t stop looking at his damn hands. He gripped Castiel’s wrists and called out for help, he didn’t care who but someone had to come. Dean, Luke, anybody. Hell, if he could get Cas’s attention that would help.

He gripped his wrists tighter, trying to cut off the blood flow as best he could. When Dean came out of his room he ordered him to do the same, letting Dean take his place as he hurried off.

Castiel had lost consciousness while Sam had ahold of him, and Dean had guided him to lay on the floor so he could focus on trying to stop the blood rather than trying to keep him on his feet. He was gripping Castiel’s wrists as tight as he could and kept them raised over his form. Sam came back with towels and zip ties and Dean didn’t let go until the ties were strapped onto Castiel’s wrists.

The towels were wrapped around his hands and they were lifting Cas at both ends, already halfway out of the door by the time Luke had gotten his phone, joining the panicked duo as they raced to the car. Luke was calling the hospital, filling them in on Castiel’s condition the entire ride.

The panic was evident in the air as they reached the lobby, Cas’s limp body in their arms. Nurses rushed to their aid, taking over control and sliding him onto a gurney unceremoniously. One nurse took the three remaining men and hushed them into a separate waiting room.

They could barely watch as Castiel was being rushed away from them.


	15. Back to Your Place

The doctors worked on Cas for hours. Dean would pace around the room and every few minutes; mumble something about not knowing what’s going on or what’s taking so long.

A nurse came in and told them when he was stable. She said they couldn’t see him because he was going into surgery now. When she left Dean sat on the exam table in the room they were put in.

They waited and waited and about two hours later the same nurse had come back in.

She said she needed them to fill out some papers and told them they had successfully removed all of the shards from his hands. Before she left she handed Dean the papers and a pen, and told them they could see Castiel after the doctors finished stitching his wounds closed.

Dean was filling out the papers when he looked over at Sam. Luke was barely awake, leaning on him over the arm of their chairs, and Sam looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, bags under his eyes more obvious under the harsh luminescence.

“Hey, Sam, why don’t you and Luke head home? I’ll call you guys if anything changes.” He whispered it, not wanting to startle them with the room being as quiet as it was.

Sam looked over to Luke and a small smile bloomed on his lips as he stroked his shoulder. “Yeah that sounds like a good idea. Just make sure you call us and tell us how he’s doing. We’re gonna take a cab back to your place. We’ll see you when you get back.”

Dean would have offered to let them take the Impala if Sam didn’t look like he’d fall asleep at the wheel. “Alright, man,” Dean said as he hugged his brother goodbye, “I’ll catch you guys later. Get some sleep, man.” Sam scoffed as he released him and patted his shoulder as he left the room with Luke in tow.

Dean finished filling out what he could on the paperwork, general things like Cas’s name and address. He didn’t know some of the other things like Castiel’s birthday or if he’s allergic to anything. He sighed and rubbed his eyes, raising himself from his seat and walking out into the hall. He found the nurse and she lead him to Castiel’s room, taking the clipboard from his hands and opening the door for him.

“Thanks.” He said as he looked into the room. Cas was laying on the hospital bed, sitting up expectantly to face Dean as he entered the room. Dean felt a wave of relief wash over him as a smile bloomed on Cas’s face. _He’s okay ._ He sighed andlifted his head to look at Castiel, a smile begging to show and pulling at the corners of his lips.

He pulled up a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down, taking Castiel’s hand in his own. Gentle touches and caresses ghosting over the bandages. They covered the entirety of his hands, all the way from his fingertips to his wrists. Castiel watched Dean’s face as he did this, feeling guilty for putting Dean and his family through so much stress in the short time that he has known them.

“So, Cas,” Dean started abruptly, “what happened, man?”


	16. Let Me Take Care of You

Castiel felt Dean’s grip change on his palm as he explained what had happened in the house earlier that night. He saw Dean tense up under his gaze, felt the tension in his grip. He winced a bit and Dean apologized, releasing him.

“Sorry,” he said as he pulled away, leaning back in the chair. It was quiet for a bit.

“Dean, what do you think it was?” Castiel glared down at his hands as he asked. They itched under the bandaging and he knew there was nothing he would be able to do about it, not unless he wanted to rip his stitches out just as fast as they had been put in. He could hear Dean pull in his breath before he began speaking.

“I don’t know, Cas. I’m not saying I don’t believe you, okay? I’m just-” He groaned, not really knowing how to say it without sounding like he thought Castiel was having some sort of mental break. He rubbed his hand on the back of his neck, slouching forward to lean on his knees. He shrugged. “Are you sure that’s what happened?”

Castiel was taken aback. Did Dean really think that Castiel would lie about something like this? He knew it sounded crazy, but he didn’t know how else to explain it. He looked at Dean incredulously, not believing Dean’s lack of faith in him. “Yes, Dean. I’m sure. I don’t really understand it, but that’s exactly what happened. Something broke that glass and pushed me into it.”

Dean shifted in his seat, like he knew more than he was letting on. He was moving around too much, obviously uncomfortable with this conversation. “Maybe it wasn’t something so ominous, you know? I mean, seriously. Maybe it was just the neighbor’s cat or something. I don’t know.” Dean couldn’t seem to look Castiel in the eye when he talked.

“Anyway,” Dean took his hand back into his grip and looked up to meet his gaze. “Let’s talk about your hands. You’re not gonna’ be able to do much with them all wrapped up like this.” He lifted Cas’s hands to emphasize his point.

Castiel sighed. He hadn’t thought about that yet. He would he take care of himself like this? He couldn’t even bend his fingers without risking reopening all of the wounds. Add searing pain to that and his hands were basically worthless to him right now. He wouldn’t be able to do anything on his own in this condition.

“The doctor said that I should be under constant supervision. They had to give me blood while they were working on me. I had lost quite a bit of my own. He wants to be sure that my body won’t react badly to the new blood.” He was staring off into space as he spoke. “I doubt they’ll release me, knowing I live on my own.” Castiel really didn’t want to stay in the hospital. It smelled so stale and sterile, plus it was cold. _Really cold_. He shuddered as he thought the words. Dean pulled his blanket up higher on his waist for him.

“Thank you, Dean.”

“Don’t worry about it, Cas. Listen,” He sat back down in the chair. “You can always stay with me. I could help you out so you don’t have to stay here as long. I could help you until your hands get better. I mean, after all, you did get hurt at my house. It’s the least I could do.”

“I don’t know. I wouldn’t want to be a burden. I’m sure you’d like to spend time with your family rather than have to deal with me in this state.” Castiel was really trying not be greedy, he wanted to get out of here as soon as possible, but he didn’t want Dean to have to sacrifice his time for him; they barely knew each other.

“Cas,” Dean looked him straight in the eye and his tone became very serious, but gentle. “Let me take care of you.”


	17. Look Up at the Clock

It had been about a week since Dean had to leave Castiel in the hospital for observation. He had convinced Castiel to come back to his house upon his release, which happened to be scheduled for today.

Castiel look up at the clock, seemingly ticking louder with every passing second. A nurse had helped him dress himself this morning and he was waiting in a wheelchair in the ground floor lobby for Dean to come pick him up. He had complained to the nurse about it being his hands, not his feet that were damaged. “I can walk, you know. You don’t have to bother yourself pushing me in that thing.”

“Hospital policy, sorry. Now get yer’ kiester in the seat, mister.” He had resigned rather easily after that, and allowed the nurse to wheel him into the lobby where he had been waiting for the last few minutes.

He heard the tale-tell sound of the Impala rumbling through the streets outside and looked back up to the clock. Dean was only five minutes later than he said he was going to be. The way he barged into the lobby would make you think he was coming in for another emergency though. He was breathing a little harder than he should’ve been and his hair was wind-whipped. _He must’ve been running all the way from the carport._ Dean caught sight of Castiel and barreled over to him. “Cas, I’m so sorry. I got caught at a light. Okay, no, I got caught at like every freakin’ red light on the way here.”

“Dean, it’s okay. I wasn’t waiting that long.” He pointed up to the clock and Dean followed the gesture with his eyes almost immediately. “Five minutes?” Dean laughed as he grabbed the handles on the back of the wheelchair. “I’m only five minutes late? I thought it was going to be a bigger difference than that. Come on, Cas. Let’s get you home. You’ve been in here long enough, that’s for sure.” He wheeled him out to the Impala and a nurse followed them to take the wheelchair back into the hospital.

Cas got himself into the car easy enough, having Dean open and shut the door for him as he did. Dean got into the driver’s side and turned the car on. He spared Castiel a quick glance before reaching over him. Castiel’s pulse spiked when Dean practically climbed over the seat, reaching his arms around him as he did. He was so close to him, faces just inches apart. Dean’s eyes were looking straight at his lips and his hands were grazing Castiel’s sides and hips. Castiel’s eyes wondered the expanse of Dean’s body; this position was very flattering on his form. His shirt’s end had slipped up over his hips and his skin was glistening in the sunlight and the cloth that was draped over him looked so soft.

Castiel’s mind was set straight as soon as he heard the dull click of the seatbelt and Dean had pulled away from him, settling back into his seat and securing his own seatbelt. Castiel cleared his throat and shifted in his seat, turning to look out the window.

They arrived at the house in record time. Dean pulled to a quick stop, jostling Castiel in forward his seat. There was a loud metal crunch as they stopped and Dean wasted no time in jumping out of the parked car to inspect the damage. “Damn kids!” He yelled it in the direction of his neighbor’s house and Castiel found out as to why when Dean had pulled a child’s bicycle out from under the grill of the Impala. He set it back into their yard, coming ‘round to open Castiel’s door.

They had gotten in to the house safely, ample silence to fill the air. Dean’s keys clinked into the bowl by the door.

“Welcome home, Cas.”

 


	18. Sharing a Room. With Dean.

Cas followed Dean into the brightly lit atrium, noticing the large, deeply jungle green colored duffel by a brushed nickle coat stand. “Dean,” Cas stated quizzically, “is that my bag?”

“Uh, yeah. When we decided you were gonna stay here I figured you were gonna need some clothes and stuff. I found your apartment keys in the overnight bag you brought when you first came over.” He stopped when Cas stooped over the bag, struggling to undo the zipper. “Sorry, Cas. I hope you don't mind. I just wanted you to be comfortable while you stay here.” A flustered Dean was an adorable one, Cas noted as Dean reached over to open the bag for him.

“Oh, I don't mind Dean. It's a very kind gesture. I'm sorry. I haven't even been here twenty minutes and I'm already burdening you.” Castiel picked idly at his bandages.

“Come on, Cas. Let's get you situated.” Dean grabbed Castiel's shoulders to help him from his stooped position on the floor and grabbed his bag, leading him towards the living room with a guiding hand on his upper back.

Luke and Sam turned from their spots on the couch to look over at them as they entered the room. “Hey guys!” Sam said, rising from his seat. He pulled Castiel into a gentle embrace. Castiel hugged back, careful not to let his palms touch Sam's muscular form, fearing the pain it would cause had he placed them on anything. Luke had shot him a small, welcoming glance; corners of his lips pulling into a small smile. Sam pulled back, relinquishing him with a tight squeeze. He kept his hands on Castiel's shoulders for a moment, before trailing his grip down his arms and lifting his hands by the wrist. He turned them around and inspected them, as if he could see through the bandages if he only stared hard enough.

“How are you holding up, Castiel?” Luke chipped in, almost as if he could sense Sam's impatience. Of course they had wanted an update on his condition

“I assure you, I am fine. The doctors stitched me back together quite well, so I'm told.” He queued into place on the couch next to Sam, who had lead him there like he was a toddler. “You haven't seen the stitches?” Sam's eyes widened in surprise and he looked Castiel straight in the eye.

“No, I haven't seen them yet. When the nurses came in to change my bandages they would often bring others to help me change or bathe. There was always much going on when my hands were uncovered.” He shrugged as he answered. “The bandages were always back in place before I had gotten a chance to see them.” That seemed to sate their curiosity for now. He turned to Dean, who had seated himself in the armchair closest to the couch. Dean looked towards him in acknowledgment, nodding as he did so.

He got up and walked off in the direction of the kitchen. “Hey, Cas? Could you come in here for a sec? I need to ask you something.” He shouted from the kitchen. He gestured for Sam and Luke to look towards the kitchen. “I'm being summoned. I'll see you guys in a bit.” He rose and began to walk to the kitchen, hearing Luke start up another conversation with Sam, probably something about what to watch on the television they had just turned on.

Castiel used his shoulder to push open the swinging door that closed the kitchen off from the rest of the house. Dean was hunched over, rummaging through the fridge. “Dean.” Cas called to alert him of his presence.

“Oh, heya Cas. You want a beer or something?” He was reaching in to grab another bottle, but Castiel stopped him. “No, thank you. Dean, you said you wanted to ask me something. Was it about the beer?”

Dean chuckled lightly, closing the fridge with his ankle as he twisted the cap off his beer. “Nah, man. I was just thinkin'.” Castiel looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. When Dean made no effort to do so, Castiel took the opportunity to ask for himself. “Thinking about what, Dean?” He waited for Dean to swallow the swig he had just taken from the dark amber bottle.

“Just, you know. Thinkin'.” He shrugged and turned away from Castiel.

“Dean, look at me when you talk. You're being dismissive.” He gripped the edge of his bandage between two fingers, shifting on his heels.

“Sorry.” He turned to look at Castiel, locking eyes with him. They stared at each other for a minute before Castiel made an impatient signal for him to continue. “Well? What did you want to talk to me about, Dean?”

“Oh, right. Uh, I was thinking,” He started slowly, his face darkening with blush as he continued. “I was thinking that, maybe, you should stay in my room?” He blurted it out so fast, Castiel had to take a moment to let his brain catch up with his ears. As soon as he thought he understood the implications he coughed his air out of his lungs, being choked by his thoughts. His rampant imagination had immediately turned to the sexual implications of sharing a room with Dean, whom he has had a crush on for a little over a year.

Cas could feel his blood pulse as it rushed into his face in an embarrassing display. His features faltered and his face showed exactly how stunned he felt. Sure, they had already shared a room twice, with nothing sexual happening but Castiel's imagination wasn't easily tamed. His flush only darkened as time ticked on, sinking his head in shame.

Dean was easily as flustered at this point, his face almost matching Castiel's in color. He cleared his throat. “Cas, look at me. You're being dismissive.” Castiel laughed, his own words were being used against him. He did look at him, and felt relief in knowing that Dean was just as embarrassed as he was.

“I was thinking, you know, with your hands being like that, that it would just be easier for both of us if you stayed in my room. You know, with me. That way I would be right there if you needed help. With anything.” He cleared his throat again, taking another draw on the neck of his beer, rubbing absently on the back of his neck with his empty hand. God, this was so awkward. Castiel decided that, even though it was awkward to talk about, it would probably be for the best.


	19. Dr. Sexy Marathon

Dean stumbled unceremoniously out of the kitchen, bumping into the door frame on his way, Castiel's bag in tote. The air around them was still thick and awkward.

Luke and Sam stopped their conversation to look over at him. Questions were forming on their faces as Dean tilted his head back to take a long pull from his perspiring beer, headed straight for his bedroom.

Their eyes could be traced from subject to subject as they formed their own conclusions as to what was happening around them. Castiel shuffled uncomfortably as their gazes went from Dean, to his bag, to the hallway where Dean's room was, to him. They only took a second to rip their glances from him back to the television, but it felt like they had been staring for hours. Their gazes were heavy and accusatory.

Dean emerged from his room, plopping back into his post at the armchair. Castiel saw this as a cue to resume his previous position as well, slipping back onto the couch next to Sam.

Even with the television blaring in the background, the room felt quiet and uncomfortably so. There was tension in the room that came from presumed answers to unasked questions. Sam was the first to say anything. He cleared his throat to draw attention before starting, aiming ferociously to keep his tone neutral when he decidedly turned to Luke. “Hey, Babe. I think it's about time we head out.” He was pulling himself off the couch and he turned to address Dean. “We're gonna go check out that carnival, do you guys want to come with us?” Dean turned to Castiel, wanting to know what he thought before coming to a conclusion on his own.

Castiel put his hands up, flexing his fingers through the bandages. “I think I'd rather just stay here, if you don't mind. I'm rather tired. I shouldn't really be going anywhere anyway, having just spent a week in the hospital.” He rested his hands in his lap. “However, if you'd like to go, Dean, I wouldn't object. I would hate to be the deciding factor on your decision. I could manage on my own for a few hours.”

Dean thought about it for, maybe, all of five seconds. “Nah, I think I'll just stay here guys. You go and have your fun. Make sure you take your key, Sammy. If you're out too late I can't promise the door won't be locked when you get back.”

They waved goodbyes as their rental car rounded the corner. Dean had been watching from the door and didn't take his eyes off them until he couldn't see the vehicle anymore. When he came back into the den Castiel could see a smile forming over his features.

“So, Cas?” He said, eyes on the television, looking over to Castiel when he addressed him. “How do you feel about a Dr. Sexy marathon?”

 


	20. A Place to Stay

It wasn't really a question. More of a promise of things to come. Dean hadn't waited for Castiel to answer. He simply moved with vicious intent, quick and precise in his movements, leading to the opening menu of a Dr. Sexy box set DVD.

Dean didn't joke around when it came to his favorite soap opera. His “guilty pleasure”, as he called it. They watched the entire first season in a matter of hours. Not that Castiel minded, if Dean was willing to offer Castiel care and a place to stay while he recovered then Castiel could sit through a couple hours of a gut-wrenching, mind-numbing, predictable monstrosity. Dean seemed to thoroughly enjoy this show. Albeit, maybe he enjoyed it a bit too much. Castiel seemed content enough just to watch Dean.

When the “doctor” would say his catchphrase, Dean would say it along with him. Castiel loved watching how animatedly Dean would react to the “nurse” doubting the “doctor”'s abilities.

Soon though, Castiel began to feel drowsy. He rested his head first on a cushion and on the arm of the couch. He dozed off around the time when the “doctor” had single-handed completed a double heart transplant during the second episode of season two.

Castiel awakened at the sound of the front door opening a couple hours later. One of them had stumbled over a table, not being able to accurately estimate it's location in the dark foyer, jarring Castiel from his slumber. They went straight to their borrowed room; Sam muttering quiet apologies into darkness, Luke assuring him no one would be awake at this hour.

It was then when Castiel noticed he was not in the same position he had fallen asleep in. He could feel something wrapped around him, upon further inspection he concluded that it was the blanket he had used on his first visit to Dean's house, the one from Dean's bed. _This doesn't feel like Dean's bed_ , he thought, using his memory of the first visit comparatively as he tested the object under him. _I must still be on the couch._ He sat up and attempted to wipe the sleep from his eyes. He shifted, feeling something move next to him. He waited for his eyes to adjust. It was Dean, of course. Only, Dean was a lot closer than he was when Castiel had fallen asleep.


	21. Panties in a Twist

Dean shifted in his sleep. Castiel tried to make sense of the situation. The situation being: _why am I using Dean's lap as a pillow?_ He sat up completely, trying (and failing) not to wake Dean as he did.

“Heya, Cas.” Dean mumbled, voice scruff from hours of disuse. He was stretching out all the kinks he had acquired sleeping in an upward, half-bent-over-leaning-in-on-himself way. He stood up to get an angle that would be better suited at removing the knot in his lower spine.

“Dang, that's one unforgiving couch.” His back audibly popping with the last turn. “How'd ya sleep, Cas?”

“Fine, Dean. Can I ask why you slept on the couch with me, instead of going to sleep in your bed?” He gestured towards the hall leading to Dean's room.

“I guess I really didn't think about it. I didn't feel like waking you up to come to bed, so I figured next best thing; bring the bed to you, right?” Dean shrugged and sat down on the couch next to Castiel, propping his feet up on the coffee table.

“I suppose. Thank you for 'bringing the bed to me'.” The expression felt odd on his tongue. He knew what it meant; it wasn't hard to piece together. He had never heard anyone use that phrase before now, though. It seemed like it was foreign. A phrase from another land, a cultural thing maybe. Or, maybe it was just 'the sleep' talking.

He heard Dean let out a low, grumbling chuckle and a “You got it, Cas.” before the sensation hit him.

“Dean,” He said urgently, “Dean, I have to use the bathroom. Could you take off my bandages, please?” He practically shoved his hands at Dean, like they were something that could be detached and thrown. “Uh, yeah, Cas. Give me a minute, lemme go get some scissors.” Dean got up, headed towards the kitchen. Castiel right on his tail, hands in front of him the whole way.

“Dean, please, this is urgent.” If Castiel was still a child he would have been doing a potty dance right about now.

“Alright, alright. Don't get your panties in a twist. Here.” He slipped the scissors between the bandages from the back of Castiel's hand and made a long snip all the way up, freeing one hand at a time. Castiel could barely contain himself as he rushed to the bathroom at the end of the hall.

When he emerged, his hands were dripping wet and you could hear the toilet rumbling, flushing its contents into the sewers.

“Please tell me that isn't what I think it is.” Dean grimaced, noticing the liquid from Castiel's hands dripping onto his carpet.

Castiel looked down at his hands and then back up to Dean. “I'm not a child, Dean. It's water. I washed my hands.” He peered through his lids incredulously. He rolled his eyes at the thought of Dean imagining Castiel peeing all over himself like some sort of crazed invalid. “Will you help me dry them so we can put the bandages back on now?” Castiel thrust a hand-towel at him and held out his palms.

Dean started dragging the cloth across Castiel's hands. Castiel winced, the fabric was pulling at his stitches. “Dean, gentle. You'll rip the thread right out.”

“Oh, right, sorry.” He began to dab the remaining liquid up, pressing less fervently into the tender skin. Dean did a decent patch-up job with the bandages. It wasn't as good as what the nurse had left them with but it would hold. The bandages were a bit snug, but that's how Castiel had asked him to bind them, saying that they would loosen with wear.

“The cuts are healing pretty good, are you sure you still need the bandages?” Dean was putting the gauze and ointments back into his first aid kit.

“Well, no. It's just easier not to get the stitches caught on stuff this way. I don't really need them at this point though, not for healing purposes anyway.” Castiel tucked a stray bandage under the rest of them. “Regardless, I have an appointment next Tuesday to have the stitches removed. I would understand if you had reservations about the bandages until then, but I assure you if I felt they were unnecessary I wouldn't bother with them.” He around for a clock, finding none in sight. “Dean?” He prompted.

“Yeah?” Dean said from the hallway, he was putting the first aid kit away in the bathroom.

“Do you know what time it is?” He waited patiently for an answer.

“Uh, yeah it's-” He looked down to his watch, “Oh, wow. It's three. Like three o'clock, exactly. Huh. Wanna go back to bed? We could actually sleep on the bed this time.” He gestured towards his room.

Castiel chuckled lightly and, gathering the pillows and blankets in his arms, followed Dean into the bedroom.

 


	22. Bottoms Up

The night passed swiftly. Castiel awoke refreshed and calm. His skin was dry and his heart wasn't racing. He had pleasant dreams for the first time in what felt like forever. It had become the norm to wake drenched in sweat, heart pounding in his ears, short of breath. It had been months since he had the first nightmare. Every night since then felt like he had been like living a curse.

The sun was risen and he could hear a gentle scraping sound coming from a tree branch outside, indicating a gentle breeze. He could hear Dean next to him, still sound asleep, breath deep and steady. Castiel stretched and tugged the blankets from his body, careful not to remove them from Dean's sleeping form.

He began inching towards the edge of the bed, crawling to the foot of it. Dean kept his bed pressed against the wall on one side, which trapped Castiel between him and said wall. Not that Castiel minded, but it did make it a bit more difficult to get out without waking Dean. Thankfully, Dean was a rather heavy sleeper. He didn't notice the shifting on the bed or the noise it made when the springs compressed under his weight. Castiel made his way out into the hall, tugging his pajama bottoms further up on his hip.

He used the bathroom, and since Dean wasn't awake to change his dressings he left them off afterward. He would just have to be mindful of the stitches until he could get Dean to bandage him back up. He could hear Sam and Luke talking in the living room. He was going to go in and possibly offer to make them some coffee.

Castiel stopped dead in his tracks as he walked into the den. Sam and Luke where standing in front of their room's door. The expressions on their faces mimicking Castiel's almost exactly. They all stared into the den. Confusion settled into the sir, faces contorted further. The silence was broken with a chortling “What the Hell?” from Luke.

All of the furniture had been turned up-side-down. All of it. Everything in the exact same spot it had been the previous night, only now it was flipped over. Even the area rug under the coffee table. Throw pillows were stacked on top of an inverted couch. Coasters flipped and lying on the underside of the overturned table. Even the remotes were bottoms up. The window shades were actually turned the wrong way round for fuck's sake.

“That's freaking weird.” Sam chimed in, running his fingers through his hair.

 


	23. My Request has Gravity to it

Nothing could have prepared them for this. It was all too weird. Why was the furniture like this? Who had done it? Was anyone going to fess up and admit the prank was theirs? Was it really a prank at all? Was this some kind of freaky home invasion gone wrong?

No one seemed to by more clued in than the other, everyone looking at each other with the same confused looks on their faces.

“This is really abnormal.” Castiel pointedly had nothing else to say. How would one go about commenting on such an event?

“I think that may be an understatement there, Cas.” Luke stated as he walked further into the overturned den. He bent down and began shifting the furniture back into their rightful spots and positions. Sam queued in to help him flip the couch and the other, heavier objects. Cas went about straightening out the pillows and coasters and other things that he could maneuver with his palms being exposed, not having put his bandages back on.

Dean apparently had been roused by the commotion caused by returning the furniture to their intended orientations.

“What the Hell are you guys doing flipping my furniture? Some kinda joke? It's too early for this guys.” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and heading for the kitchen, he stared incredulously at his counterparts, whom still had the recliner in their possession.

“Dean, we didn't do this. We came out here and everything was already turned over. We're putting it back where it belongs.” Luke said as he and Sam placed the recliner back onto the ground.

“Whatever man. Just, next time you guys feel like pranking me, don't be so freaking loud about it. Maybe it would've worked out better if I hadn't come out here in the middle of seeing you guys flipping my shit up-side-down. Seriously.” He had come back with a cup of coffee in his hands and sipped it gingerly, fussing at the intensity of the heat of the bitter liquid.

Dean obviously didn't believe the men when they tried to explain and, Castiel had to admit, the situation hadn't really looked like it would have had other explanation anyway. Castiel looked onward to Dean, and then back to Sam and Luke. He pulled on Dean's arm, coaxing him to follow him back into the kitchen. He checked back into the den, making sure the others weren't going to interrupt, before he started in.

“Dean, I have something important to ask you. Before I do, I want you to know that it is a delicate matter and of the utmost importance.” He said in a hushed tone, leaning into Dean's personal space as he spoke.

“Uh, sure, Cas, what's on your mind?” Dean was becoming serious and possibly worried by the tone Castiel was employing.

“It is going to seem foolish, but I assure you my request has gravity to it.” Castiel said, in all seriousness.

“Alright. What is it though, 'cause you're kinda freaking me out over here.” Dean sipped on his beverage, anxious. Whatever Castiel was going to ask him, it must be something very serious and important for him to have had to pulled Dean away from the others to ask in secrecy.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, very sorry I haven't been updating. I'll have you know it was much easier a task when I was still in possession of Microsoft Word. (My trial ran out, and I can't afford it right now.) Sorry again!   
> Tell me how you think the story is going! I'm trying to add in a heavier story line. I don't know if you noticed or not, but it's going to be getting a bit more paranormal around here. I'm going to be making it more and more alarmingly obvious as time goes on.
> 
> Strange things are happening in Nowhere, and it's up to Castiel to save his new home!

**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave comments. I would love to hear from you! Also, if you are interested in viewing my blog (where I spend most of my time) you can follow me or send me feedback or get to know me as an author or even possibly befriend me all you have to do is go to jaybeesaur.tumblr.com 
> 
> Thanks for taking the time to read my story! I hope you liked it!


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